But Has All Hope Failed?
by Not Days but Knights
Summary: This is a oneshot based upon the scene where Dumbledore must drink that horrid potion in order to reach the horcrux at the bottom of the potion's basin. But this time, it is told from Dumbledore's point of view...


_A/N: Anything that has to do with Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling, not me, no matter how many times I wished otherwise._

_This is my first ever fanfiction so I would highly appreciate reviews! No flaming, please. Sit back, relax, and enjoy "But Has All Hope Failed?"_

Before Harry could make any further protest, Dumbledore lowered the crystal goblet into the potion. Dumbledore noticed a look of hope on Harry's face as the goblet filled up completely with the dangerous potion. Raising it from the basin towards his mouth, Dumbledore spoke.

"To your good health, Harry." He took one last look around at his surroundings and, with his mind rather blank from emotion, Dumbledore emptied the goblet. At first, nothing seemed to happen. He still saw the stone basin full of the potion he was supposed to drink if he were to grab the horcrux hidden at the bottom of the basin. He still saw the eerily still dark lake that surrounded him and the dead bodies that floated in its dark depths. He still saw Harry standing across from him, looking avid. He closed his eyes in relief. He saw in his mind's eye colors swimming around in his brain. An image of Harry swam across his mind. He was covered in blood, lying at the feet of Voldemort on a cold, stone floor, begging for mercy.

Without knowing it, Dumbledore shook his head at the sight. Was this the kind of torture he must pursue if he was to drain the entire basin? _It wasn't that bad, was it? _A voice inside him said. Dumbledore felt his hand make a swooping motion and heard a small splash as his goblet entered the basin full of potion once more. Imperiously, he opened his mouth to drain a second cup of potion. The image seen previously doubled in detail and clearness in his mind. Harry was screaming, pleading.

"Kill me! Just do it!" Harry was saying. His voice was much higher than it ever could be. His face was chalk white, and blood was spilling from his mouth and nose. He looked like someone who had been tortured, drowned and beaten all at once. Voldemort stood above the weakling that was Harry, laughing the high-pitched laugh that was so unlike Tom Riddle.

Dumbledore didn't realize how much he was shaking. His head was nodding convulsively, as if his disapproval could do something to help Harry. And as if his arm was no longer connected to the rest of his body, his arm swung into a diving motion as he filled his goblet yet again, and downed it in one sip. His arm continued to move in a quick motion, to fill the goblet again. But the effects of the potion were blinding his concentration. Harry lay on the ground in front of Dumbledore's eyes once again. He was still bloody, his face still pale and pleading. Fear showed throughout his entire body. Hope was all gone from him, and he was crying…

Dumbledore heard his own voice speak the pleading words that were being stammered by the image of Harry that was lying so helplessly on the ground. "I don't want… Don't make me…please, please," There was a flash of light, and Harry began to writhe on the floor. His face was contorted with unbearable pain. He was screaming, sobbing, and bleeding as he rolled around at Voldemort's feet. And still, Voldemort continued to laugh with utmost glee. Dumbledore knew that Harry Potter was about to become no more.

Dumbledore heard himself speak again, this time from his own thoughts. "…Don't like… I want to stop…" he moaned, pleading for the sake of Harry. Dumbledore felt true fear rushing through his body. He had no idea what to do. Harry was dying before his eyes. He wanted to stop making the image appear. He wanted to know that this wasn't true. He wanted to make sure that Harry was really not about to die, that the world was not going to fall apart because Harry had failed. He wanted to know that Harry was all right. This was breaking his heart. But Dumbledore felt his mouth being opened by hands other than his own, and a liquid fell into his mouth. He swallowed unwillingly, unsure what was going on.

Harry came into his mind for the third time, this time the scene also showed Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger lying on their backs behind Harry. Their faces were wide open with shock, as though they had just seen a horrifying sight. Their mouths were open, their eyes empty and glassed over. They were rigid on the ground, but it was certainly clear that they were both dead. Extraordinary twists and turns began to occur in Dumbledore's stomach. Harry was not only about to die, but his failure had cost his best friends their life. If only he could help. Dumbledore heard himself begin to plead once again.

"It's all my fault, all my fault," he sobbed. "Please make it stop, oh please, just make it stop and I'll never, ever again…" But his begging was interrupted by yet another feeling of a liquid sliding down his throat. Dumbledore was forced to watch in his mind the moments before Ron and Hermione's deaths. Harry turned to give an order to Ron and Hermione. Loyalty and trust shone in Harry's friend's eyes. They listened intently, foolishly taking their eyes off Voldemort. Then, as all three teenagers started to walk toward Voldemort, there was a cry of "AVADA KADAVRA!" a flash of green light, followed by yet another flash of green light that blinded both Harry and Dumbledore. When the light lifted, both Ron and Hermione had fallen to the ground, dead. Dumbledore screamed a blood-curdling cry, a cry loud as two men's - as loud as Harry's and his own combined.

"Don't hurt them," Dumbledore whimpered as he watched Harry advance on Voldemort, angry tears of disbelief in his eyes, his wand shaking, pointed at the ready. "Don't hurt them, please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead." It was the only thing he could think of; the only way he could help Harry. If he died instead, somehow Ron and Hermione could come back, and Harry would be all right.

But Dumbledore's plea was in vain. As Dumbledore continued to whimper and moan and plead for Harry's life, the Harry standing beside Dumbledore as he completely fell apart pried open his mouth and spilled the eighth goblet into his mouth. Dumbledore watched as Harry fell to the floor after an attempt to get up onto his feet. He lay there, twitching in fear and in pain. Harry spilled hot tears down his face. He was crying for his life, for the pain that was filling his insides and out, for Dumbledore's help that had failed him, and for the loss of his best friends.

Dumbledore wanted it to end. He couldn't bear to see Harry like this. He couldn't stand to think if this were really happening. If everything he had stood for, after all he had done, after all he and Harry had worked for, was going to crumble and disappear, gone from the world.

"I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop. I want to die!" Dumbledore began to plead again. Everything was falling apart before him. If Harry was gone, and all of the love and loyalty that he stood for, disappeared, Dumbledore saw no point in living. "KILL ME!" He screamed to the night. His scream seemed to echo throughout the room in which Harry was lying. It seemed to echo throughout the room, bouncing off the stone floor and benches that stood in rows in a semi-circle like an amphitheatre. The scream then seemed to turn into a whisper and fade away as the sound disappeared through a dark, black veil that was fluttering in a non-existent breeze over a stone archway that was standing in the corner of the room.

Harry seemed to sit up from the cold, stone floor, glancing around for the source of the scream. Hope had flickered in his face. But the look vanished and was replaced by a look of shock and fear, as there was a blinding flash of green light and a joyful cry of "AVADA KADAVRA!" Harry's body stiffened, his upper body falling to the floor and hitting it with a soft thud. Voldemort had murdered him while Harry was looking for hope. But there was no hope now - Harry Potter was dead.

Dumbledore almost felt his heart crumble and disappear. There was no point in living now. Harry was gone and with him had gone all of the good of the world. The Chosen One had failed, and it was because Dumbledore had loved him. Harry Potter had believed in him, had used his information to try and gain the upper hand. But it had murdered him in the end. Love had killed him.

The image of Voldemort celebrating most triumphantly over Harry's body slid away as Dumbledore cried a last plea of death, a sob of despair and hopelessness and did no more.

"_Rennervate_ – sir! Please – _Rennervate!_" The real Harry pleaded, trying to recover Dumbledore. Dumbledore felt his eyes flicker for a moment. He saw a lightening shaped scar on a 16-year-old boy's forehead, and very green eyes. Harry was alive after all.

"Water," Dumbledore heard himself croak. Everything was going to be all right. Harry was not dead; he was here, by his side, still loyal to him after all of this. All he needed now was something to drink, something to refresh him.

"Water," Dumbledore asked again, weakly. He felt himself losing consciousness. Everything was slipping away, yet again, blurring in and out of focus like a camera. But then, he felt the cool reviving sensation as cold fresh water slid down his throat. He felt his senses return to him. For now, he had the energy to lift a boulder. He sat up and turned to find Harry. Harry was a yelling jinx at a large mob of what Dumbledore recognized as Inferi. Fear seemed to be blocking Harry from realizing what the proper spell to do might be. Getting to his feet, Dumbledore thought "_Incendio!" _Fire erupted from the tip of his wand. Like a long rope, it cut in front of Harry, creating a line between him and the Inferi. Dumbledore watched as the Inferi retreated into the watery depths of the lake. Gesturing to Harry, he moved to get back into the boat that had brought them to the retched basin filled with torturous potion. But then he remembered: the horcrux! In a swift, quick movement, Dumbledore scooped up the horcrux at the bottom of the basin and tucked it into his robes. In the few moments that he had the horcrux in his hand, Dumbledore knew that something was wrong with it. It did not feel like the ring had when it had contained the horcrux. But he would not be able to tell, however, until he could look at it properly in his office.

He then stepped into the boat, muttered the counter-spell for "_Incendio"_ and watched as the boat pulled them away from the small island, from the Inferi that were slowly sinking back into the cool depths of the dark water, from the basin of horrible potion that had forced him to see his worst fear.

"Sir," panted Harry, "sir, I forgot – about the fire – I panicked-" Harry's scared, hoarse voice brought Dumbledore our of his relieved thoughts.

"Quite understandable." Dumbledore heard himself mumble reassuringly to Harry. Harry seemed to take this as good enough reassurance and remained quiet afterwards. Dumbledore simply looked back at the basin that was slowly slipping from view as they entered the cave once again.

The boat ride through the cave seemed, luckily, a lot faster than the ride to the little island. Harry jumped out of the boat rather quickly once it had docked onto the lake end, and then turned to help Dumbledore out of the boat. Harry held out a hand to Dumbledore, who accepted it graciously having nothing to glance fearfully back at anymore.

"I am weak…" Dumbledore began.

"Don't worry, sir," Harry said. "Don't worry, I'll get us back to Hogwarts… Just lean on me, sir…"

Harry continued to guide Dumbledore back through the caverns, groping him over the shoulder as one would for one who had injured their leg. They walked slowly in silence. Harry gave the toll booth his blood from where he had been cut when he was attacked by the Inferi, and then they were out at last by the sheer cliff ends and roaring sounds of the waves crashing below.

"The protection was… after all… very well-designed." Dumbledore tried to give his insight about the potion for Harry. "One alone could not have done it… one alone could not have survived. You did well - very well, Harry…"

For it was, after all, Harry who had suffered most that night. He had watched as Dumbledore fell apart from watching his worst fear be played out in detail before his eyes. Harry had to continue to feed Dumbledore the horrible potion, even when Dumbledore had screamed his desires to die into the night. Harry had shown true loyalty and Dumbledore now knew that he had been safe all along.

"It's going to be all right, sir." Harry said over and over again. "We're nearly there now… I can Apparate is both back… don't worry…"

"I am not worried, Harry," Dumbledore spoke, his voice sounding a bit stronger. He had the strength to go on because Harry was there, because of the love that was filling both their souls, because he was in the presence of the Chosen One, because he would succeed. He smiled at Harry, "I am with you."


End file.
